


Spellcaster

by nereidee (aurasama)



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Porn With Plot, Post-Game, White Mage Vaan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 01:43:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20107114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurasama/pseuds/nereidee
Summary: “The Mist's strong in this place. It stays on for a while once you tap into it, y'know. Keeps me up at night sometimes.”A hunting trip to Raithwall's tomb takes an unexpected turn when Vaan's white magick skills are needed. Or, Balthier has been watching Vaan for a long time, and little does he know that Vaan has had his eye on him, too.





	Spellcaster

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to [ridorana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ridorana/pseuds/ridorana) for beta reading, you're the best!

Balthier shudders. Even by now when he knows to expect it, but the sudden drop in temperature still chills him as the Waystone's glow dims. The silence of the Dynast-King’s tomb is absolute, almost unsettlingly so, and his eyes take their time to adjust after the blindingly bright desert sun. Vaan brushes past him and even his posture speaks of apprehension despite the smile on his face.  
  
“Guess we'd best be careful, huh,” Vaan says quietly. “The tipster couldn't say where exactly we'd find this thing.”  
  
Balthier's eyes rake over the vast hall but the only movement there is to meet his eye is the restless dancing of light and shadow, as the fires watching over Raithwall's slumber burn without a hand to tend to them. Whether it's simply one more long-forgotten mechanism of the ancients or what remains of Belias' magick that keeps the flames alive he does not know, and when the two men set off it's with unusual precaution. Even Vaan walks with muffled footsteps and the pirate cannot blame him; last they were in these halls they were assaulted on this very bridge. Balthier takes out his gun and ensures it's loaded and cocked, ready to be pulled out at a moment's notice, but they are allowed to pass uninterrupted deeper into the tomb.  
  
Vaan stops right before the set of heavy stone doors beyond which lies the great stairway and Balthier hears him inhale between clenched teeth as if pacing himself. When he places his palm on the door and gives it a push it swings back effortlessly, without sound, and there is no need to talk as they enter the chamber. Vaan's jaw is set as he pulls out the mage's rod and he lets the older man take the lead, taking slower, more collected steps now.  
  
“Are you all right?” Balthier asks, keeping his voice down, though he knows they are the only living beings here.  
  
“Yeah.” Vaan inhales again, eyes closing momentarily, and when they open once more there is an odd glow in them. “I forgot how strong the Mist is here.”  
  
Balthier knows what he means, though he has never dabbled in spellwork himself. He can feel the presence of the Mist as a pulse that sends its tendrils crawling up his spine, much like what being the target of curative spells feels like, only a hundred times stronger. He can only guess what it's like for a white mage like Vaan.  
  
When they reach the second landing Vaan comes to a halt, the light of the Waystones reflecting from his eyes. He scans the surroundings carefully and after a while the corners of his mouth quirk up.  
  
“This way,” he says and steps towards one of the winding staircases leading deeper into the tomb.  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“Positive. This is gonna be a hike, but it's down there.”  
  
Balthier bites back the sigh about to escape him and follows him, inwardly already cursing the climb that'll await them on the way back.  
  
The Mist grows stronger the further they descend, even Balthier can tell as much. As quiet as they are he knows the Tomb is teeming with creatures that feed on the Mist, knows that their breach will hardly have gone unnoticed. His theory is proven correct when something moves in the dark and comes flying towards them his gun is already aimed at the thing before Vaan has had the time to react. He sees Vaan’s eyes flicker between the creature and the barrel of his gun, assessing the situation, and then Balthier pulls the trigger. The crack of a single gunshot and then silence. He can still feel eyes on them, watching, alert, but nothing else stirs in the shadows.  
  
“Nice one,” Vaan compliments, grinning.  
  
“Of course.” Balthier stows the gun back in its holster and adds tad pointedly, “and I thank you for coming to my aid so readily.”  
  
His grin widens. “You had the situation under control. What even was that thing?”  
  
“A steeling of some description, judging by its movements. Stay alert. There are sure to be more down below.”  
  
Nothing else disturbs their trek as they make their way downwards, however, and all that meets them is silence. They exchange few words as they proceed, but Balthier finds the blonde's eyes on him every now and them, his expression unreadable.  
  
They pass through another set of heavy stone doors, taking them further inside the tomb. The air gets steadily colder, the Mist thickening judging by the glow in Vaan's eyes, and though these halls would normally be crawling with unspeakable things they don't encounter a single creature for almost half an hour. This strikes Balthier as alarming and he knows immediately that they've found the right place; the absence of creatures living or dead can only mean one thing. He casts a furtive glance Vaan's way and the blonde returns it, but before either of them manages to say anything it happens. The air grows so cold that it draws a gasp from them both, as if they'd suddenly been spirited away to the blizzards of Paramina, and Balthier sees the shadows quivering at the very corner of his vision.  
  
“There!” Vaan shouts. The lich advances upon them and they both weave out of its reach as quickly as possible.  
  
They act in unison without needing to talk. Vaan moves with almost cat-like precision, fleet-footed and sharp-eyed, and his aim is impeccable when he strikes, swinging the mage's staff like a baton. It had surprised Balthier when the younger man had chosen to pursue healing, but Vaan has proven nothing if not skilled in his chosen path, his eyes always keen to spot where he's needed most almost before it happens.  
  
Balthier feels the hairs at the nape of his neck stand up as the familiar hum of magicks envelopes him and not a moment too soon; the spectre casts a spell that makes the air around him quiver, but it merely bounces off him, like raindrops running down a window pane. From the corner of his eye he sees Vaan lunge at the creature and Balthier narrows his eyes and aims, the gunshot echoing loudly in the empty hall. The lich lets out an unearthly howl and with one last swipe charges at them.  
  
“Now!” Balthier yells, but there is no need. He feels only the smallest stab of pain before Vaan is already there, his staff colliding with the creature, and a wave of conflicting magicks rents the air apart. The creature wails before twisting into a shapeless mass, and then it's gone before either of them has blinked once.  
  
Balthier feels something warm trickling down his cheek and towards the corner of his mouth, and when he tries to brush it away his fingertips come away bloody. He quirks an eyebrow but before he can mop it up Vaan is standing in front of him with an amused grin on his face.  
  
“Whoops,” the blonde says. “Guess I wasn't fast enough.”  
  
“Mind doing something about this before it sullies my best shirt?”  
  
Vaan smiles and the atmosphere around him is heavy with the Mist. His eyes become unfocused, just for a few seconds, and though Balthier cannot see it he feels the thrum of magick seeping underneath his skin and up his spine as the blonde places his palm on his chest. Physical touch is not necessary for spellwork, that much he knows, but Vaan seems to like it – it's become something like a signature of his nowadays – and Balthier has to hold his breath when the magick is released. He feels it as a sharp sting like a charge of static electricity, and when the air around the Dalmascan goes still he feels no pain in his cheek any more.  
  
Balthier takes out a handkerchief and wipes the remaining blood on it. “Shame that no spell siphons off the blood once the wound is healed,” he laments and stuffs the handkerchief back in the pocket.  
  
“You missed a spot,” Vaan points out.  
  
“Did I?”  
  
There is a strange gleam in the youth's eyes that has nothing to do with Mist. It seems in slow motion that he parts his lips, tongue peeking out just enough to wet them; he cups Balthier's face in his hands and closes the distance between their faces in a kiss. His mouth is soft against the other man's and Balthier feels the hum of magick strong against his lips, his face – every place that Vaan touches seems to sing with the heady presence of Mist. When they break away Vaan's eyes are bright and his hair waves softly though there is no breeze.  
  
Balthier wants to say something but for once, he finds himself stunned into silence. Every long, lingering gaze that he's sent the boy's way these past few years has etched themselves deep into his memory, and until now he had believed them all a waste. After all, Vaan has always been generous with his jests and smiles - but that, Balthier had privately decided, is just how he is with everyone.Throughout these years Balthier had simply told himself there was no deeper meaning behind Vaan’s words or his smiles; that it was simply Vaan being Vaan, nothing more.  
  
It would make for a compelling argument if Vaan's heat didn't linger on his lips like the temptation that it is, and the pirate realises he's been staring at the Dalmascan in silence only when Vaan's expression falters.  
  
“Sorry,” he rushes to say, making to pull away. “I must've misunderstood―”  
  
Balthier grabs his wrist and pulls him back. “You haven't.” He swallows the lump in his throat. “You didn't.”  
  
Balthier’s free hand comes to cradle the back of Vaan’s head and he pulls the blonde into another breathless kiss. He feels Vaan's tongue flick against his lips and the tingling of magick draws a moan from him. It's like kissing an electric current, as if the blonde were a hume-shaped Entite, and Vaan is none too gentle as he answers his kisses with unmistakeable fervor. He makes no effort to keep his sticky thief's fingers to himself, quick to rake over every inch of the other man that he can reach, and it's only with some difficulty that Balthier manages to break away from him.  
  
He smiles and murmurs against Vaan's lips, “perhaps we ought to wait with this until we're back at the camp, unless you fancy being caught with your trousers around your knees by the next monster that comes along.”  
  
Vaan chuckles, and there's a mischievous glimmer in his eye. “I'm sure it'd be worth it.”  
  
“In your opinion, but I'd rather take a more traditional approach with this.”  
  
“You're zero fun,” Vaan accuses, but he's grinning all the same.  
  
“Are _you_ willing to risk your life for a quick romp? And in the tomb of Her Majesty's revered ancestor, no less?”  
  
Vaan lets out a theatrical sigh, letting go of him. “Guess not.”  
  
The way out of the tomb seems endless, carved through with its arduous stairways, and Balthier swears they’re longer going up than they were coming down. They're both badly out of breath by the time they reach the last Waystone and are spirited away to the ruin's entrance. It's already dark out; Balthier can feel the temperature dropping rapidly as the sun paints the walls of the tomb a deep carmine. A light breeze sends clouds of sand billowing about and he's more than happy to reach the tent they had erected upon their arrival in the morning.   
  
“Doesn't look like anyone's been here while we were gone,” Vaan says, dropping the staff in the sand. He discards his vest and arm guards just as swiftly before crouching down and pulling aside the flap of the tent. “D'you think we should get a fire going?”  
  
“As tempting as that sounds, I'd prefer to get out of the wind. A fire stone will have to do,” Balthier replies. He glances up at the sky where the first evening stars are clearly visible now. “It's going to be a cold night.”  
  
“Nights on the desert are always cold.” Vaan removes the rest of his gear and pulls off his shoes, casting them in the pile, and crawls inside the tent. A moment later the telltale glow of magicite flickers into light and illuminates the tent and its immediate surroundings, the light just bright enough to shine feebly through the canvas.  
  
Balthier leaves his gear in the same pile with Vaan's before kneeling down and following him inside the tent. He turns around to pull the fastenings of the flap closed, making sure as little of the wind can get in as possible.  
  
Vaan has already made himself comfortable, propped up on the pillows like he owns the place. He paints an altogether too pretty a picture like this, Balthier decides; hair tousled from both wind and magicks alike, the topmost buttons of his shirt undone to expose naught but the most modest amount of sun-kissed skin. Enough to entice, enough to tease. When Vaan catches him staring and beckons, grinning toothily, Balthier wastes no time to scoot over.  
  
What gentleman would he be to turn down such a tempting invitation, really.  
  
Vaan's hands settle on his waist almost reflexively as the pirate crawls over him and kisses him full on the mouth, and a sense of thrill accompanies the tingle of magick that runs up his spine again. He pushes Vaan into the pillows, hands carding through his flaxen hair, and lets out a noise of surprise when the younger man's tongue pushes into his mouth.  
  
“I seem to have gotten more than I bargained for when I accepted the invitation to join you on this hunt,” Balthier murmurs as they break away. Vaan wears a most smug look as he looks up at him.  
  
“I don't hear you complaining, though.”  
  
“A sky pirate doesn't complain if his plunder yields more treasure than he foresaw.”  
  
Vaan's hand is warm as it settles behind his neck and when they kiss again the soft thrum is there once more, stronger, like a pull in his blood that sings at every touch. The blonde pushes up against him, back arched, and they both shudder as the current of Mist runs through them.  
  
“How curious that it feels like this even outside of the tomb,” Balthier says.  
  
“The Mist's strong in this place,” Vaan replies. His hand wanders from Balthier's neck to his jawline, and there is a strange gleam in his eye as his finger traces his lips and draws another noise from him. “It stays on for a while once you tap into it, y'know. Keeps me up at night sometimes.”  
  
Balthier bends down to leave a trail of kisses on his cheek, his jaw, neck, and Vaan all but sighs into the touch. He bucks up against the older man and they both moan softly; it's impossible not to feel how aroused Vaan is. Balthier pushes against him this time, deliberately, and fully enjoys the noise that escapes Vaan's mouth as he throws back his head.  
  
“Was this the reason behind your invitation all along? To get me alone with you so that you could seduce me?” Balthier asks, face only inches from his.  
  
“Is it working?”  
  
“From your current whereabouts I'd think you could tell that it is,” he answers wryly. Vaan's sun-kissed face is flushed and there is a newfound urgency to his touches when he captures Balthier's face between his palms and kisses him again. His fingers card through Balthier's hair and slip onto his neck, unceremoniously getting rid of his cravat and casting it aside.  
  
“I want you,” Vaan breathes between kisses. “I've wanted you for so long.” The sound of his breathless voice, heavy with need, is enough to make Balthier's toes curl.  
  
He pauses to suck on a spot on the younger man's neck until he's a squirming, panting mess before muttering in his ear, “I know you have. You've practically been undressing me with your eyes whenever we've been in the same room for the past two years.”  
  
Vaan looks almost offended when Balthier hovers over him on all fours. “You _knew?_” he bursts out, and if he was blushing before it's nothing to the colour on his face now.  
  
“Yes, but I didn’t exactly take it seriously - until now, that is.”  
  
“Why didn't you just ask?”  
  
Balthier leans back to straddle him, legs around Vaan's midriff, and begins to slowly ease himself out of his vest. “I didn’t want to get my hopes up and risk embarrassing us both by reading too much into it,” he says. “And how old were you again when we first met?” When Vaan says nothing, he continues, “and as I recall, you didn't say anything, either, so that makes us even.”  
  
Vaan bites his lip as he watches Balthier take off the vest and move on to the buttons of the shirt he wears underneath. He reaches out to run a hand across Balthier's thigh. “Guess I should've said something,” Vaan says, and his voice catches in his throat. “Should’ve taken my chances.”  
  
“Well, that makes two of us,” Balthier replies, his tone softer now, and he leans over the youth again and lets him pull him into a series of hungry, needy kisses. It's sloppy and uncoordinated and soon they both are dizzy from the lack of oxygen. Vaan's head lolls back on the pillows, golden hair splaying around his head like a halo, and he's the most beautiful damn thing Balthier's seen in his rotten life.  
  
“We should go on hunts more often, just the two of us,” Vaan says, smirking.  
  
“I think we can agree on that.”  
  
It's bitterly cold and they both shiver as they undress, shedding their clothes as quickly as they can. Balthier helps the blonde out of his smallclothes and Vaan's smile is another invitation as he lies there naked, all tan and quicksilver smiles, and Balthier cannot resist breathing, “by the Fates, you make a sight.”  
  
With one smooth movement he's on top of Vaan again and they both sigh as skin slides against skin, the promise of another's warmth irresistible in the cold of the desert night. His cock rubs against Vaan's as they move against one another and when he claims the blonde's lips for another kiss, it's slower and gentler than before. Vaan moans into the kiss as he grinds against him slowly, Vaan's hands sliding down Balthier's sides and the curve of his spine in a caress until settling on his bottom. Balthier thrusts against him again, Vaan's hands pulling him closer, following the motion, and after a while they find a rhythm.  
  
Balthier kisses every inch of skin within his reach, his breath hot and heavy against the youth's neck. Vaan traces the cleft between his buttocks before his fingers are raking over the man's back again, nails digging into his skin just hard enough to leave a mark. It sends a quiver down Balthier's spine and he luxuriates in it; the all-too familiar call of Mist in his gut that sends heat pooling down towards his crotch with each touch from the blonde. Vaan bucks up against him as a particularly good thrust draws a moan from them both.  
  
“Hang on,” Vaan manages and negotiates a hand between their bodies. He takes them both in his hand, stroking once, twice experimentally, and Balthier jolts at the touch. His skin all but burns with the presence of enchantments and he instinctively bucks into Vaan's hand for more.  
  
Vaan smiles and continues his stroking, paying close attention to every sound and movement the other man makes. His nimble fingers seem to find all the right places to touch and Balthier finds that all he can do is fall into the rhythm, pacing his thrusts to follow the blonde's hand.  
  
He muffles another moan against Vaan's neck, leaving behind a thread of saliva from the sloppy kisses he places there. Another thrust has the younger man throwing back his head, a tremour passing through him. Vaan’s voice reaches a new pitch as he strokes faster, grip tightening around the two cocks, and all Balthier can do is hold him, peppering his skin with soothing kisses while he makes love to him with all the pent up desire he's been harbouring for the past two years. The Gods know he has wanted him since forever, and every night-time fantasy he's ever had of Vaan is all but forgotten now that he has him for real, right here, warm and needy underneath him.  
  
Balthier leaves another kiss on his neck, rough and all teeth and tongue with every intent to leave a mark. He mouths against his ear, “Gods, this feels divine,” and then Vaan turns his head and claims his mouth again.  
  
Neither of them last long after that, the combined exhaustion of several days' travel and the excitement of the hunt and now, this, proving too much for their tired bodies. Vaan is loud as he comes, not making an effort to stifle his moans, and his grip falters as he quivers underneath Balthier from the sheer force of his orgasm. The pirate presses hot and increasingly messy kisses to the corner of his mouth until the blonde's breathing eases and he readjusts his grip. His grin is wicked as he resumes his stroking, and Balthier all but chokes out the next works, sure that he cannot keep up like this for much longer.  
  
“Gods, Vaan, I—“  
  
“I wanna hear you come for me,” Vaan says, and where has he learned to smile in such meaningful ways? “Come on, 'Thier—“  
  
And it's that that does it; the delicious slide of his cock against Balthier's and the nickname that rolls of the his tongue like an endearment, and Balthier muffles his moans into Vaan's mouth, kissing him fervently as he spills his seed over his belly. Vaan lets go and collects him in his arms as he collapses on top of him. For a while only the sound of the Sandsea’s wind can match their ragged breathing.  
  
A little later Vaan stirs and mutters in his ear, “that was unfair.”  
  
“What was?”  
  
Balthier pulls back just enough to enjoy the look of annoyance that crosses his features.  
  
“Jeez, Balthier. Of all the times to be shy, you chose today? I wanted to hear you come.”  
  
Balthier smirks and presses a lazy kiss on his lips, almost enough to make his pout melt away. Almost, but not quite.  
  
“And here I thought you'd appreciate my leaving you something to look forward to in the future,” he says, and if his jest is ruined by the fondness in his voice, well, it just may be a worthy sacrifice. “Should you ever be intrigued by another excellent bit of thievery, that is.”  
  
Vaan laughs and his eyes are softer when he looks up at him. “I just might, y'know. And I'm not gonna wait another two years for that.”  
  
“I should hope not. Patience isn't your greatest virtue, as it happens.”  
  
“You're one to talk, 'Thier.”  
  
“I don't recall granting you licence for nicknames,” he points out, quirking an eyebrow.  
  
“Maybe, but I'm giving you one anyway.” Vaan gives him a shove. “Move, you're heavy.”  
  
Later, when they're both wrapped underneath three or four quilts each, Vaan reaches out and douses the lantern, its magicite glow dimming slowly like cooling embers. Balthier can just make out the blonde's face in this light, and the faint glimmer in his eyes is the only sign of the magicks coursing through him still.  
  
“Will you be able to sleep tonight?” Balthier murmurs in his hair as Vaan burrows in his arms, radiating warmth.  
  
“Think so,” he answers and yawns immediately. The last glow of the magicite finally dies, dressing the tent in the all-consuming darkness that can only be found in the most desolate of places, far away from civilisation. While the wind continues to howl, neither of them stirs. It's perfectly cozy with a warm body pressed up against his, and on the verge of sleep Balthier feels the younger man press one more kiss on his cheek, right where the lich left its mark hours earlier.  
  
“All better now,” Vaan whispers, so quietly that his words are almost lost in the wind.  
  
And Balthier says nothing, but he's almost certain that the spot tingles afterwards.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't always write BalVaan but when I do, it's after procrastinating for at least seven months. Aka this has been in the works for a while, sorry about that.
> 
> I always end up making Vaan my healer in every playthrough and thus I require White Mage Vaan content to soothe my soul. He always strikes me as the healer type - he's so fiercely protective of the people and places he likes that it's something I see coming naturally to him. Also those fast reflexes of his do come in handy where healing is needed.


End file.
